27 Ways to Find a Boyfriend

by Tapscott, Shari L.

  “I’m serious. Let’s get out of here for a bit.”

  It’s Thursday night, too late for a hike, too middle of the week to take a drive out of town. Our options are limited.

  Maybe we’ll go to Phoenix this weekend. We wouldn’t have to hide there.

  Addison groans and pulls her feet off my lap. “Okay, but you have to buy popcorn.”

  I lean across the couch to kiss her, murmuring against her lips, “Oh, I see how it is. You’re an expensive date.”

  She laughs and pulls me closer, and thoughts of leaving are forgotten. We stay like this the rest of the evening, up until it’s too late. Then we’re lingering next to her car, neither of us wanting to part.

  Being with Addison is easy. She listens to my plans for the roadster, sharing my enthusiasm for the project. She understands my frustrations and knows the guys and all their quirks. We click in a way I never thought possible. I’m comfortable with her, but she’s never boring. I don’t have that itchy feeling to end things between us, not like I usually do after a few weeks with a girl—if I even make it a few weeks.

  It’s exciting but terrifying. Though I try not to think of it now, I know that soon we’re going to have to acknowledge that this is more than just a passing fling. We can’t keep it a secret forever—and I don’t want to.

  I tell myself we can wait until we finish the roadster and go to the museum’s grand opening in Georgia. But after that, we’re telling her dad.

  I crawl into bed after she leaves, keeping my cell phone close, waiting for her text.

  I’m home, it says when it comes in.

  Miss you, I write back with a frowny face.

  Lame, right? I don’t care.

  Go to sleep. You’ll see me in the morning.

  I smile and roll back, staring at the ceiling.

  I’m pretty sure I love her. It’s been growing for years, and now she’s mine, and I’m terrified I’m going to lose her.

  Even though it’s late, I pull back the covers and leave the bed. There’s no one in the house to care that I’m turning on lights at two AM, no one to pull me back to bed and say whatever is on my mind can wait until morning.

  And that’s the problem.

  I sit at my dining room table and open my laptop, impatiently waiting while it loads. I’ve never worked on a resume before—I’ve never had to. But I think it’s time I get one started.

  * * *

  “You look awful,” Isaac says the next morning. “Rough night?”

  I fill my coffee thermos in the break room—a fifteen-foot by fifteen-foot room with one table, three mismatched chairs, a counter with a random collection of sweeteners, ancient tea packets that no one bothers drinking, and—most importantly—coffee.

  “Just a late night,” I tell him.

  He leans against the counter. “You have a hot date?”

  I think of Addison and smile. “The hottest.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “Nah.”

  “You know,” he says, drawing out the two words, “this is the part of the conversation where a polite friend would ask how my night was.”

  I give my friend a dry look. “How was your night?”

  “It was great, thank you for asking.” He grins, waiting for me to beg for details.

  “Well, get on with it.” I dump a little sugar and some non-dairy/maybe-food powdered creamer in my coffee and then screw on the lid.

  “Did I ever tell you my cousin and her family moved here a few years ago? Great girl, very sweet—don’t get any ideas; she’s married.”

  “Noted.”

  “She invited me for a barbecue last night, and I hung out with her family.”

  “Sound like a party.” I can tell this is going somewhere, but he’s not getting there anytime soon.

  Just before I leave the break room, Isaac catches my shoulder, dragging me to an abrupt halt. When I frown at him, he grins. “Did I mention she lives in your neighborhood? In the new phase, just down the road from your house.”

  My stomach drops, and I press my lips into a flat line, trying to keep from swearing.

  “Imagine my surprise when I was heading home at eleven and saw a certain sedan sitting in your drive.”

  “Keep your voice down,” I hiss, glancing behind us to see if anyone is near the door.

  He thankfully obeys and whispers, “What is this? Are you and Addison dating? Please tell me you’re acting out of character and it’s something real, because every guy here will form a firing squad if you’re messing with her.”

  “Like they’d need to,” I say, matching his tone. “Her dad would kill me and dispose of my body before they got their chance.”

  “Does he know?”

  “Of course he doesn’t know.”

  “How long has it been?”

  I rub a hand over my face, wishing I’d gotten more sleep. “We haven’t made it official. Unofficially…about a month.”

  “So Jessa’s list? Was that just a cover?”

  “No, that was unfortunately real.”

  Looking irritatingly thoughtful, he takes a step back, crosses his arms, and narrows his eyes as he studies me.

  “What?” I demand.

  “The list worked—Addison landed you, Carter Dalton. That’s a scary prospect, my friend. Imagine the damage women could wreak if more of them got their hands on that weapon of mass destruction.”

  I’m too tired for this. I shake my head and walk out the door. Of course, Isaac trails behind me.

  “What are you going to do about her dad?” he asks.

  Shooting him a look that tells him to drop it, I say, “I don’t know.”

  “What are you going to do if he finds out?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How long are you going to keep it a secret?”

  “Isaac!” I bark. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, what do you know?”

  I spot Addison across the shop. She’s talking to Stan, who’s loudly lamenting the fact that he has jury duty next week.

  Her hair is up in a ponytail. She’s in jean shorts, flip-flops, and a red tank top. I don’t have to get closer to know her toenails are hot pink because she painted them last night. As if feeling my gaze, she glances over. Our eyes meet for the briefest of seconds, and a smile plays at her lips. She looks away quickly, but the exchange is enough to fuel my whole morning.

  “I know something about her feels right,” I finally answer. “I know that every time she walks in the room, it gets me right here.” I press a fist to my chest. “I know that she’s the first girl I’ve ever been with that made me picture forever, and I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her.”

  “Wow. That was really heartfelt and”—Isaac grabs his throat and makes a gagging noise—“super special.”

  “Thank you, Isaac.” I roll my eyes. “It’s always a pleasure talking to—”

  “You guys better get to work,” Lydia says from right behind us, making me jump like a spooked horse. “Gary is going to be here any minute.”

  I turn to face my boss’s wife, wondering just how much of our conversation she overheard. From the knowing look on her face as she walks by, I’m going to bet she heard most of it.

  24

  “What do you mean Lydia overheard you talking to Isaac?” I whisper heatedly to Carter behind the relative safety of the dumpster out the side door.

  “I didn’t know she was behind me,” he says, running his hand through his hair.

  “Why were you blabbing to Isaac in the first place?” I demand.

  “He saw your car at my house last night. Apparently his cousin lives over there and he was going home after a barbecue and—never mind. That doesn’t matter. What are we going to do?”

  I pace back and forth, ignoring the trashy aroma wafting into our secret rendezvous spot. The day is already warm and getting warmer. We’ve passed the pleasant days of spring and are gearing up for the summer heat.

  “I’m going to have to ta
lk to her,” I finally say. “I don’t see a way around it.”

  “I’ll find a new job,” he blurts out suddenly, setting his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll go somewhere else. I’ll find a job as a service mechanic—I’ll go to the Hour ‘N’ Go if I have to.”

  My stomach works itself into a knot, and yet it still manages to flutter. I know what that would cost him.

  “Stop,” I say, batting his hands away. “Let’s not make a big deal out of this yet—and over my dead body are you working at the Hour ‘N’ Go. Good grief, Carter. You’re a certified technician.”

  He crosses his arms, nodding, at least acknowledging that it’s a worst-case scenario.

  “We should get back inside,” I say, leaning in for a quick kiss. He reaches for me, but my phone rings.

  “It’s Jessa,” I say to him. “She’s still nagging me about the list.”

  He nods, looking like he wants to say something but changes his mind.

  “Hey, Jessa,” I say as soon as I answer the call.

  “Bye,” Carter mouths as he heads back inside. Before he goes, he brushes a soft kiss against my cheek, making me smile.

  “Can you scrounge up a date tonight?” Jessa asks.

  “I have my cooking class.”

  Carter and I have been going together. It’s about the only date night we get, and we’re surrounded by old people and one semi-sulky instructor. Gio gives himself credit that Carter and I are hanging out—but he’s not overly excited about it.

  “Skip it,” Jessa says. “Franklin got four evening passes to Coaster World from a client. If we leave right after we get off work, we could be in Phoenix by seven-thirty.”

  “I’m gonna pass.”

  “Why?” she asks, sounding genuinely confused why I don’t want to strap myself into a small metal cart and go flying down a track. Even the idea makes me twitchy.

  “It’s just not my thing.”

  “Why don’t you call that doctor who played tennis with us? The one who fixed your butt?” she says, undeterred by my reluctance.

  “Tailbone, Jessa. And he didn’t fix it—he just decided it wasn’t fractured.” I wince at the memory. “And I’m sure he has to work.”

  “Or here’s an idea…how about I ask Carter and give him a chance to redeem himself?”

  Oh, he has.

  But I haven’t been able to tell Jessa that. As far as she knows, Carter and I are still at odds due to the Pink Coupe Vanessa incident.

  I’m silent for a second too long, and she jumps on it. “I’ll set everything up. Just promise me you’ll come.”

  “Fine. Whatever—I’ll come if you can’t live without me. But you owe me a churro.”

  “Done!”

  I smile to myself, thinking this worked out rather nicely. Carter has been antsy for a real date, and Jessa just laid one in our laps, gift-wrapped with a bow and a lovely excuse if we’re caught. After all, why shouldn’t she invite her brother and her best friend on an outing? It’s not our fault if she’s trying to shove us together, is it?

  Of course, Jessa will want to drag me on all the rides, but how bad could it be? I mean, people do this sort of thing for fun, right?

  Before I can begin looking forward to spending an evening with Carter, I have one pesky thing I have to attend to.

  Lydia looks up when I come into the office. She gives me an absent smile and turns back to her computer. “Have a nice break?”

  “Yeah, it was okay.”

  “Your dad and I are going to head out early. I wanted a few new shirts and things for our trip to Georgia, and he said he’d tag along.”

  You want to know what’s going to be the epitome of awkward? A business trip across the country with my dad, Lydia, Carter, and me.

  That’s right.

  The guys should have the roadster done by the end of next week, and then it’s being transported to Atlanta. We’ll fly in the day before the grand opening.

  “That sounds fun,” I tell her, thinking that I wouldn’t mind doing a little shopping myself. The opening of the museum is going to be black tie, and I don’t have anything to wear.

  I sit at my desk and tap a pen on my planner. How am I going to bring this up casually—in a way that’s not completely suspicious in case she didn’t overhear Carter and Isaac?

  The radio plays in the background. It’s a quiet blend of popish country, and Lydia hums along as she works.

  “So,” I start, not really having any idea where I’m going with this. I’ll just stare at my computer and hope it plays out. “I was talking to Isaac earlier, and—”

  “If you’re fishing to find out if I overheard him and Carter talking this morning, then the answer is yes.”

  I jerk my head toward her so quickly, I hurt my neck. She’s thumbing through a stack of paperwork, looking very mellow.

  “You heard what?” I ask, pretending I didn’t just give myself whiplash. Be cool. “Exactly?”

  She frowns as she reads something on one of the papers, nods to herself, and pulls it from the stack. “Only that Carter is head over heels for you, and he’s pretty sure he’s in love.” She sings the last word, and I have a mini heart attack.

  Oh.

  My.

  Word.

  He forgot to mention that part.

  I stare at her, my eyes as wide as saucers. “Say what?” I breathe, and this time, I don’t even have to fake my confusion.

  Her eyes flick up, and she smiles. “I won’t tell your father if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s been just ridiculous about this whole thing. Years ago, I told him the two of you were going to end up together, but would he listen to me?”

  My jaw moves, but my brain can’t form words. I’m pretty sure I’m at my most attractive right now, sitting here with my mouth hanging open.

  Finally, for self-preservation more than anything, I say, “Carter and I aren’t…”

  “Right.” She draws the word out, letting me know I’m not going to fool anyone. “But even if you were…I wouldn’t say anything.”

  That’s a relief. I think.

  She rises from her chair, taking the paper with her. “I’m finished here, so I’m going to see if your dad is ready to leave. What are you doing tonight?”

  “Jessa is dragging me to Coaster World in Phoenix.”

  She looks as enthusiastic about the idea as I am.

  “I know,” I say.

  “Just you and her?” she asks.

  “And Franklin and…” I pause, and she raises her brows, already knowing where this is going. “Carter,” I finally say.

  “No,” she says, feigning shock.

  “Stepmother.” I shake my head. “Please don’t.”

  She laughs as she walks for the door. “You’re fun to tease, Addison.”

  “Goodbye…”

  Just before she’s out the door, she turns back. “Are you still using Jessa’s list?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, I have something to add.”

  Of course she does.

  Out of sheer curiosity, I can’t help but ask, “What?”

  “Spritz a little perfume in your hair.”

  “Why?”

  “He’ll smell it every time you move your hair—trust me. I’m not telling you to douse yourself in the stuff. A little goes a long way.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “It works. He’ll think of you every time he smells it.”

  Which means she used the technique on my father, which has me gagging a little.

  “Um…I really don’t need any more info,” I say, happy she and Dad are together but not wanting to picture their dating days. At all.

  She gets a mischievous look on her face. “I know he’s your father, but he’s still a man, and—”

  “Ew! No! Don’t finish that.”

  She grins as she finally walks out of the office. “Have fun tonight.”

  “You too.”

  Just don’t tell me about it later.
>
  “Hey, Addison,” Tad says two seconds later, popping his head in the door. “Do you have the keys for the ’68 Mustang?”

  “Yeah, they’re hanging on the wall over there.”

  He tilts his head to the side, looking not too dissimilar to Cocoa. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I wrinkle my nose. “I just kind of want to wash my brain in bleach.”

  The youngest member of our team stares at me. “Oh…okay.”

  He then grabs the keys and hurries out the door.

  * * *

  “He’ll be fine.” Carter puts down his drill and studies his handiwork. The new dog door opens to the garage from the laundry room, and then from there, Cocoa can get to the backyard through another dog door.

  Carter picked up the pair of doors from the home improvement store on his lunch break after Jessa called to see if he’d go to the amusement park with us tonight. He knew I would be worried about Cocoa.

  Jessa and Franklin are going to be here any minute, and Cocoa stares at the door like it’s a snake.

  “Come on, big guy.” Carter kneels and pushes the swinging door open with his hand to show Cocoa he can go through. “Be brave.”

  The dog simultaneously whines and wags his tail.

  “What are we going to do if this doesn’t work?” I ask. “I have no idea what time we’ll be home tonight. Cocoa can’t be inside that long.”

  We haven’t had as many mishaps in the last few weeks. The only thing Cocoa has chewed up is one of my heels — coincidentally, it was from the pair I was wearing when I slipped at the community center.

  He’s a good boy.

  Carter stands, studying the dog door. “Do you have any treats?”

  I jerk my head toward the kitchen. “I have some in the top cabinet.”

  Carter goes in there and then calls back, “How do you reach these?”

  “I have to get the stepstool.”

  He comes back out, giving me a questioning look. “Why do you keep them there?”

  I sit on the floor, crossing my legs, and scratch Cocoa’s chest when he plops down next to me. “He learned how to open the pantry door.”

  “Is that why you’re suddenly obsessed with storage containers?” Carter laughs. “You have three dozen of them in there.”